


Dinner Plans

by methylviolet10b



Series: Dinner Plans [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had planned to dine out at the conclusion of the case. Written for JWP #19: Great Minds Think Alike. I chose the "Creepy, Kooky, Ooky, Spooky" AU option, and promptly bent it all to pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This wasn't what I set out to write, but that turned into an idea that would take far too long to complete, so this fragment is what I came up with instead. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.

As was not uncommon, the conclusion of a case took much of the day. We emerged triumphant, but tired, and in Holmes’ case, slightly worse for wear. Accordingly, we returned to Baker Street to quickly refresh ourselves (and in Holmes’ case, exchange the shirt that had ripped in an altercation with the cornered criminal) before going back out to dine at Simpson’s.  
  
I opened the door to our sitting-room, only to discover that we had a visitor. For a brief moment I thought it was a new client. I sighed inwardly, resigning myself to yet another lost dinner. Then I took a closer look, and the blood froze in my veins.  
  
I heard Holmes come in behind me, but I could not tear my eyes away from the figure by the hearth. In form it was a woman, dressed all in black and heavily veiled. But there was something inherently horrible in her appearance that no human woman could embody. Her skirts and veil moved in an unfelt breeze. She turned to face us, and one hand moved to lift that heavy veil. I instinctively knew that looking upon the face it hid would mean my death.  
  
Holmes laughed.  
  
The woman – or spirit, or spectre, or whatever she was – stiffened. A horrible voice hissed out a string of syllables unintelligible to my ears.  
  
“You are quite incorrect, madam,” Holmes replied. His voice snapped like a whip. “I am not about to die. You are.”  
  
I felt Holmes lay one hand upon my shoulder. The terrible paralysis that held me snapped under that touch. I saw Holmes’ jaws start to gape, and I hastily closed my eyes.  
  
“Your pardon, Watson,” Holmes apologized to me a few minutes later, after he had helped me to a chair. “I had meant to lure in the creature, but I had failed to anticipate that she might be able to actually cross our threshold. I shall take more care in the future.”  
  
“It’s quite all right, Holmes,” I assured him. “After all, you told me almost from the very beginning that no supernatural beings need apply.”  
  
“Not as the subject of cases, that is true.” Holmes grinned. His teeth – all his teeth – were still rather more pointed than was usual. “As dinner, however, they are most welcome. I am afraid that I am now too full to properly enjoy Simpson’s on my own behalf, but I should be glad to accompany you there and digest our spectral intruder over a bottle of wine while you dine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 19, 2016


End file.
